


rebuilding

by donotfeedthebirds



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, eventually lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2020-01-12 15:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18449279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donotfeedthebirds/pseuds/donotfeedthebirds
Summary: “I think I’d like to try to look at you, and feel the way I did before.”or,Heejin finds out the hard way that falling out of love is easy, while falling back in love is not. Still, she tries again.





	1. easy

**Author's Note:**

> very vaguely inspired by dodie's 'arms unfolding', which is a fantastic song btw

It’s sad to admit, but falling out of love was easy.

One day the same laugh that never failed to make Heejin smile - the one that always made butterflies erupt in her stomach and her heart flutter in her chest - all of a sudden made her feel nothing.

Heejin can’t pinpoint when things changed. All she knows is that they did, and now they have to deal with that fact.

Waking up next to Hyunjin had once made Heejin feel so giddy that she never wanted to get out of bed, but now she just trudges over to the bathroom, choosing to ignore the warm body next to her.

Back in better days, Hyunjin would have pouted and whined at her to stay, or (on days when she felt particularly bold) even pulled her back down onto the bed. But now Hyunjin doesn’t do any of these things. Hyunjin doesn't do anything.

So in a way, it’s both their faults. 

* * *

The door swings open, the loud bang of the knob hitting the adjacent wall giving Heejin a start. When Heejin swivels her chair and sees that it’s only Hyunjin coming through the front door, she calms (but just a little) and puts her phone down to pay attention to her.

Hyunjin drops her backpack with a huff as soon as she walks through the front door. Her shoulders are tense, and she's breathing a little quicker than usual; Heejin can see her stress from a mile away.

“Long day?” she asks, not getting up from her seat at the kitchen island to properly greet her.

Hyunjin laughs, no trace of humour in it. “The longest.”

As Hyunjin walks over to the fridge and gets out a beer, Heejin debates whether she should ask if Hyunjin wants to talk about how her day went. Eventually, she decides not to say anything.

Heejin’s a little afraid that Hyunjin wouldn’t want to tell her, but mostly she’s scared that she wouldn’t mind not knowing. So unlike the time when she wanted to know everything about the other.

God, where did those days go?

Those days when they could (and did) spend most of their time talking about nothing and everything, when both of them racked up ridiculously high phone bills because neither of them wanted to hang up, when they would tell each other about their days - good or bad - without the other having to ask.

Back then, Heejin wouldn’t have hesitated to wrap Hyunjin in her arms, to comfort her and tell her that her long day was over, that she was alright now because she was back home with Heejin.

Heejin sighs. After all, there’s no point in thinking about better days. Thinking about the way they used to be won’t help bring it back.

Wordlessly, Hyunjin grabs her laptop from her backpack, placing it onto the kitchen island. She turns it on and takes a long sip of beer as it boots up.

Heejin tries not to let it bother her, how Hyunjin hasn't looked at her once since she came home, how Hyunjin deliberately chose to sit in the barstool farthest away from her. It says a lot about their situation, actually. Sitting in the same room, at the same table, but still so unnecessarily far apart.

A few silent minutes pass by until Heejin can't handle the tense atmosphere between them. Heejin can practically swear that she imagined it all by herself - Hyunjin doesn't seem affected by it, occasionally scowling at her screen and drinking even more beer whenever her typing comes to a pause.

Instead of addressing the tension, Heejin chooses to retreat.

“I’m heading to bed,” Heejin informs her once she's already up from her chair.

“Mm,” Hyunjin murmurs, lips still wrapped around the mouth of the bottle. She doesn't turn to look at Heejin (whatever's on her screen doesn't even look that exciting, Heejin bitterly notes) and Heejin wonders when work became more important than her.

Heejin’s made it halfway up the stairs when Hyunjin speaks again.

“You want me to come to bed with you?”

Back then, Hyunjin would have said it teasingly - with that adorable quirk of her eyebrows and a deliberate deepening of her voice. Back then, Heejin would have grinned and accepted the offer immediately, would have raced back down and pulled Hyunjin upstairs with a giggle.

But Hyunjin had said it as if she didn’t want Heejin to say yes - her tone bland, as if going to bed with Heejin would be a chore - and, if Heejin is being honest, she doesn’t want to say yes either.

“No, you should stay down here,” Heejin says. She's only mildly disappointed when Hyunjin simply nods and turns back to her laptop. “Enjoy your beer.” Heejin tries to say this with a steady voice (she's always hated how much Hyunjin drank), but the contempt must be evident because Hyunjin turns to her again.

Their eyes meet for a second and Heejin's breath hitches in her throat.

She really doesn't want to fight today. Much like Hyunjin, her day was long and tiring - yet another argument about how Hyunjin should drink less would no doubt sap whatever energy she has left. Those arguments usually get heated quickly, Heejin's concern somehow always gets turned into a weapon to be used against her. It always hurts when that happens, tears stinging the corners of Heejin's eyes when she defends herself for caring.

Hyunjin, apparently, decides that arguing wouldn't be worth her time, instead choosing to resume typing and gulping down the remaining liquid from the bottle.

When Hyunjin returns to the fridge and retrieves another bottle (or two), Heejin's already made her way up the rest of the stairs.

Even if they didn't fight, Heejin finds herself hurt anyway. Is she not worth fighting for anymore?

* * *

Hyunjin comes to bed at precisely 2:43.

When Heejin sees the door sliding open, she turns to her other side and closes her eyes. Even though Heejin never quite got over her habit of waiting for Hyunjin to come to bed, she feels the need to hide that fact, to pretend that she's okay with sleeping alone.

Heejin idly listens to the familiar sounds of the water running of the bathroom sink, the sound of Hyunjin's clothes hitting the ground as she changes into more suitable sleepwear, and waits. She doesn't know why she's waiting or what she’s even waiting for.

Only after Heejin feels the bed dip beside her can she let herself fall asleep.

“I love you,” Heejin whispers to the air, just to test out the words. They feel wrong, _sound_ wrong, but not as wrong as when Heejin hears a muttered reply that sounds just as hollow and meaningless.

“I love you too.”

* * *

Heejin knows she should want to kiss her.

Once upon a time, they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other, always finding excuses to hold hands or to have their shoulders brush. Now Heejin finds herself doing the opposite.

It’s their usual date night. Every Sunday, they’d take a little time just to be together - maybe walk around and explore the city or try out a new restaurant. Tonight, however, they settled on going down to their regularly-frequented ice cream parlour.  
  
Hyunjin’s choice of ice cream (triple chocolate, as per usual) ends up smeared on her lips, small traces of it even decorating the tip of her nose and her cheeks. Heejin should find it cute, should want to giggle and wipe it off with a nearby napkin. She should want to kiss her, and (after pulling away) smile and explain that she wanted to taste the chocolate.

But instead, she folds up the napkin and hands it to her.

To Hyunjin’s credit, nothing in her demeanour showcases that she’s particularly bothered by Heejin’s impersonal action. She only half-smiles and takes the napkin with a swift thanks, wiping the chocolate off until all that remains is a tiny fleck in the corner of her mouth.

Under the harsh fluorescent light above their regular booth, Hyunjin’s lips shine. Heejin knows they would taste like cherries, knows precisely which lipgloss Hyunjin had applied just by the particular shade of pink. It would be easy, so easy, to lean in and let her tongue clean up what Hyunjin had missed.

That thought should be exciting, but it just makes Heejin shift in her seat.

She watches her own ice cream melt and drip, some coming close to reaching the fingers wrapped around her cone. As the white of the vanilla eventually meets her hand, Heejin wonders - not for the first time - when exactly she had stopped wanting to kiss the girl in front of her. 

* * *

Hyunjin’s yelling at her about _something_.

In times like this, Heejin would usually feel so much that she would feel sick. She'd feel so upset at Hyunjin for letting something so small get the better of both of them, upset at herself for letting the situation escalate or for doing whatever made Hyunjin mad in the first place, upset at the universe for letting her fall for someone so completely different from her.

Usually, Heejin’s mind would be going a mile a minute, over-analysing every little thing they both said, either to look for flaws in Hyunjin’s argument or to find out exactly what to apologise for.

But this time Heejin finds that she doesn’t care.

Hyunjin’s shouted words - the very same ones that usually hurt Heejin down to her core - do nothing but leave her feeling tired and spent. Heejin can hear them clearly, knows that by now she should be crying piercing tears, should be on the floor and distraught.

She simply stares at Hyunjin, nothing but a blank expression on her face.

* * *

Heejin’s been ignoring this for a while, but now she really can’t do anything but accept it. She just doesn’t love Hyunjin anymore.

And when Heejin says this out loud to herself in the mirror and feels nothing, she realises there’s nothing she can do to reverse it.

Heejin stares at herself, sees her hollow eyes and pale cheeks. She wonders when being with Hyunjin became tiring instead of freeing.

The fire in her chest which once burned for Hyunjin had been blown out, and she doesn’t even know how or why. In the end, the specifics don’t matter.

* * *

In the end, the decision is easy to make.

"Maybe we should break up."

"Fine." 

* * *

“Hyunjin, I still love you--”

“No, you don’t.”

* * *

It’s frustratingly easy to live without Hyunjin.

Part of Heejin actually wants to miss Hyunjin’s presence, wants to feel all the things dramas tell her she should feel after a breakup, wants to experience that pain and regret and heartache. It’s not that she likes pain (in fact, it’s the exact opposite), but rather that Heejin thinks Hyunjin deserves to be missed.

In a way, Heejin does miss her.

She misses the Hyunjin that would wake her up at midnight to drive her to places she’s never been just to show her just how beautiful the city looked at night. She misses Hyunjin with the harsh lights of buildings and the duller, yet still spectacular lights of the stars behind her. She misses the Hyunjin that was wild and free and so lovely to her, that loved her in a way that’s difficult to explain.

The problem is, she had lost that Hyunjin a while ago. Maybe even months before they actually had the guts to call it quits. And Heejin can’t find it in herself to miss the version of Hyunjin she’s grown accustomed to - a Hyunjin that barely paid her any attention, let alone set aside time to do anything meaningful with her.

It’s easy, yes, but in a paradoxically difficult way.

Heejin makes the days pass by a little smoother by avoiding everything that reminds her of the other girl.

She turns all the pictures of them around. Heejin knows it would be simpler to take them all down and be done with it, but she tells herself she doesn’t have the time.

She walks a different way home so she doesn’t have to see the ice cream parlour, or the stray cats Hyunjin always stopped to greet. Heejin tells herself that the ache in her chest is because she misses hearing them meow in response, but when she went alone to see them, she knows it just isn’t the same.

A week or two passes like this and Heejin’s half-convinced herself that the split was for the better, only to break when she accidentally drops her favourite mug.

It smashes the instant it hits the tile of their kitchen floor, a shard nicking Heejin’s big toe. The cut doesn’t bleed for long, but it’s enough to ruin her day before it even started.

The mild inconvenience only makes Heejin crave her caffeine fix all the more, so she scrambles in their drawers for a possible replacement. She falters when her eyes meet the one Hyunjin always used.

It’s a crappy little thing with the world’s messiest-looking cat painted proudly on the side. The cat, Heejin’s somewhat proud to say, actually looked quite presentable once upon a time - that is, before Jiwoo was too eager to look at it and subsequently smudged the wet paint with her thumb.

Heejin had felt so embarrassed when Hyunjin found it, and she had to admit that it was intended to be a gift, but Hyunjin used it with such pride (even going so far as to refuse to drink coffee out of anything but that mug), that Heejin eventually felt that pride as well.

Hands shaking, Heejin picks the mug up. She smiles at its sorry excuse for a face, how the grey of the whiskers had somehow blended with the yellow of its snout to create some sort of an unintentional murky colour, how every detail she had painstakingly painted was practically indistinguishable.

It’s a little bittersweet, the feeling of nostalgia that it brings. It makes her heart lurch uncomfortably in her chest, and Heejin doesn't know if it's a good or a bad sign.

With the hand that isn’t on the handle, Heejin turns the mug around to reveal writing, one of the few things left unmarred.

_I love you_

Three words clearly written, the time and effort poured into making the lettering satisfactory obvious. Heejin can remember all too clearly how she had searched for the thinnest brush she owned, how she had concentrated on every single letter. The memory of it (and the memory of Hyunjin being so  _proud_ of her for it), it quickly becomes too much.

Heejin’s hand comes up to her mouth as she dissolves into dry shuddering sobs. She feels the muscles of her chin tremble, then her shoulders, until it feels like her entire body is shaking.

Heejin merely feels herself shaking, just as she hears herself bawling like a distressed child, from the inside - like she’s somehow distanced from this person crying on her knees on her dirty kitchen floor. She can’t even feel the shards surrounding her, can’t feel them digging into her legs at places.

The intensity of her emotions confuses her. She didn’t know she had this much left to give, didn’t know that she could still feel anything after weeks of feeling absolutely nothing.

It comes in waves. Just as she thinks it might finally be over, the tears only increase in number and power. They only stop flowing when she realises what she’s crying over.

_I love you_

Those words were so easy to say, _are_ still easy to say, but to mean? Heejin hadn’t meant it in a long time - not when she kissed Hyunjin goodbye before work, not before she fell asleep at night, not when she said to appease Hyunjin after they broke up.

But the Heejin she was years ago could say it a thousand, a million times without wearing out its meaning.

She had meant it _every single time_ \- after the brutal fights when all they did was tear each other down, after Hyunjin came home and those three words were the first things Heejin wanted to tell her, after being pulled back into bed even at the risk of being late to work. She meant it even when the words were hard to say, when it was hard to look at Hyunjin without being reminded of harsh words and how deeply they cut.

And Heejin wants that back more than anything. She had experienced a love that encompassed everything, and now that she doesn’t have it, Heejin feels like she has _nothing_.

Love had made everything feel so intense, the lows so insanely low, but the highs so euphorically high. And living without it feels so mind-numbingly dull.


	2. i can't even fall asleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> full chapter title, bc im annoying: fall back in love? i can't even fall asleep

Heejin knows that it’s her fault. After all, heartbreak is a pain that’s self inflicted; she’s the one who keeps replaying these thoughts. 

 

When Heejin closes her eyes, all she can see is that cold look in Hyunjin’s eyes the day Heejin suggested they should end things. Heejin hates remembering it, remembering how Hyunjin didn’t even seem to _care_. She wasn’t sad, just angry. As if she were blaming Heejin for giving them up, when in reality, their relationship had been crumbling long before that. 

 

But it wasn’t just the day they broke up that kept haunting Heejin. No, Heejin finds herself obsessively remembering every little detail of the first few weeks after their split. 

 

How she found herself reaching out for Hyunjin's warmth on the few nights she could actually fall asleep. Or the way she used Hyunjin’s mug religiously until the handle snapped and hastily stuffed it into a box. Or when she found herself looking for the hairdryer they had shared, dissolving into tears when she realised that Hyunjin had taken it with her. (No, she wasn’t crying because she had to get a new hairdryer, but more because she lost someone that it was so easy to share everything, even the little things. They had lived life together for so long, had assumed it would last forever, that it made sense to buy everyday things they’d both use. _That_ was what Heejin lost).

 

Those thoughts, every small memory, invade her mind incessantly, making it impossible for her to get a good night’s rest. It’s not the happy times that Heejin remembers - not the years before ‘I love you’ became empty - but how pathetic she is now.

 

It’s strange, the way that sometimes all that Heejin can think is “I want to go home”, even when she’s laying in her own bed. Home just doesn’t feel the same without Hyunjin. It’s cold and empty, both too large and suffocatingly small. And yet she doesn’t want to change anything about it just yet. 

 

Even though Hyunjin had taken all of her things, there are still traces of her around. The scuff on the ceiling from when Hyunjin tried to teach her how to play pool, and Heejin somehow missed the ball and threw the cue stick up. The couch they bought together, where they’d spend Thursday nights cuddled up watching Disney movies. The stuffed toys, clothes, books that Hyunjin bought her, every little thing was connected to Hyunjin somehow. Because Heejin herself, despite being the one to end things, can’t find it in herself to fully sever her connection to the other girl. Because she can’t move on. Because she didn’t even know moving on was an option.

* * *

 

Heejin finds herself in a small coffeeshop, the one just across the road from their-- _her_ place. It’s the first time she’s gone out (apart from work) in over a week. Jiwoo had been worrying about her, and since Heejin saw no harm in seeing an old friend, they met up. 

 

“How did you get over her, Jiwoo?” Heejin asks.

 

Her question is mostly out of curiosity, but it’s also partly to try and figure out just what the hell she’s meant to do now. To figure out what she’s supposed to do to finally get Hyunjin off of her mind.

 

“Get over her,” Jiwoo echoes, tilting her head as she thinks about how to respond. “I don’t think I really needed to.”

 

Her answer surprises Heejin. It’s definitely hard to believe, especially since for so long, the other couple had been so sickeningly in love - maybe even more that Heejin and Hyunjin had been. 

 

Heejin had been witness to how seemingly okay Jiwoo had been after her break up, but she assumed that Jiwoo was only acting fine in public. The fact that Jiwoo had really been alright (Jiwoo, who feels things more intensely than maybe anyone, who reacts so extremely at the slightest of things) is unexpected, to say the least. Almost unbelievable.

 

“I needed her the three years I had her,” Jiwoo muses, her gratefulness to her ex clear. “We changed each other and grew as people… unfortunately, we grew apart. We became people that didn’t need each other anymore. And that’s fine. Just because we didn’t last forever doesn’t mean it didn’t matter.” 

 

 _Need_. Heejin’s never thought about it like that. 

 

No, she doesn’t need Hyunjin in her life - can live perfectly well without her good morning kisses, her adoring compliments, or her teasing jokes but-- 

 

She does _want_ Hyunjin in her life. Hyunjin’s presence had always been one that made Heejin feel better. And for some reason that had just stopped being enough. Even though she desperately wished that it would become enough again.

 

“I just… accepted it, I guess. We both did.” Jiwoo shrugs. “Then we moved on.”

 

Heejin is taken aback. Moving on had never even crossed her mind. The thought of loving someone that wasn’t Hyunjin -- it doesn’t seem possible. Hyunjin was her first love, her only love. To replace her with someone that could never come close felt _wrong_. If Heejin thinks about it too hard, the idea of it almost makes her sick.

 

By now, the cake and their drinks are long gone, and they have no reason left to stay. The coffeeshop always got busy around this time, and Heejin didn’t feel like having the staff ask them to go.

 

When Heejin’s phone starts to ring next to her, she instinctively winces. 

 

She doesn’t think she can handle another call from Hyunjin right now - too tired for the mental strain that ignoring Hyunjin always causes her. Especially since she’s becoming less and less sure that ignoring her is even the right thing to do.

 

Heejin rises from the table first, picking up her bag beside her, and forces a smile on her face. 

 

“Let’s go for a walk,” she suggests to Jiwoo, ignoring the aching of her limbs. “Today’s too beautiful to waste.”

 

While the weather is pretty - sunny with a few clouds overhead, not too hot or too cold - Heejin asks mostly to prolong her time with Jiwoo. If she’s left alone with her thoughts for too long, Heejin knows she’ll give in and call Hyunjin, something she’s not entirely sure she can handle right now.

“Sure.” Jiwoo smiles. Heejin knows that Jiwoo probably knows that she’s being used as a momentary distraction, but being the great friend she is, Jiwoo doesn’t pry. Not when she knows Heejin’s too sensitive right now to not breakdown in public. “Let’s go. Show me around?”

* * *

By the time Heejin returns to their-- _her_ apartment, the sun is already setting. She’s exhausted, her arms and legs feel overly heavy, and her eyes are starting to droop. She flops down on her overly-large bed and sighs. Despite her tiredness, she knows that she probably won’t fall asleep tonight. Or the nights after.

 

She had gotten too used to waiting for Hyunjin to come to bed that her body apparently rejected the idea of sleep without Hyunjin’s warmth. 

 

Most nights, she would just lie there with her eyes closed, trying to force sleep on herself. When that didn’t work (it never did), she would stare up at the ceiling, unmoving. She would wake up hours later, completely unable to remember when and if she had even fallen asleep - both her body and heart sore. 

 

Tired of the sight of their-- no, _her_ bedroom ceiling, Heejin grabs her blanket and pillows and takes them to the couch, hoping that the change in scenery will help her fall asleep. 

 

The couch is uncomfortable in too many ways to count- the leather sticks to the exposed parts of her skin, it’s too close to the coffee table that she’s scared she’ll hurt herself, and it’s a bit too narrow for her to spread out as she wishes. Stubbornly, Heejin forces her eyes shut and tries to ignore all of that.

 

To her surprise, it works for a time. She’s halfway to sleep, until the doorbell rings and she’s shaken out of the first good rest she’s gotten in a long time. She pulls open the door, going to yell at whoever wanted to see her so late in the night.

 

As soon as her eyes lock with Hyunjin’s, Heejin’s arms fold across her chest, her body instinctively going into a defensive position. 

 

She looks Hyunjin up and down, noting how dishevelled she is - her hair all mussed up and sticking to her forehead at places, her slightly soiled clothes, how she leans against the wall as if she’s seconds away from falling. 

 

It’s hard to look at Hyunjin look such a mess. It’s even worse like this - adding drunk and spiteful to the mix, if the alcohol on her breath and glare in her gaze is to be believed. 

 

“What are you doing here?” Heejin’s words come out angrier and more accusatory than she’d intended, so she grimaces a little but still stands her ground. Her annoyance escalates when Hyunjin doesn’t even try to answer and just keeps staring right back at Heejin. “Hyunjin, answer me.”

 

“Angry, huh?” Hyunjin says with a bitter chuckle. “That’s okay, I expected as much. I know you don’t want me here. I know you don’t care about me anymore.”

 

The idea that Heejin doesn’t care was laughable. Even if Heejin doesn’t love her anymore (hasn’t loved her in a long time), the girl in front of her is still Hyunjin. The same Hyunjin that she’s shared her best and her worst times with. The same Hyunjin that taught her compassion, what it meant to really be there for someone. The one person who could make her laugh when she wanted to cry, who always tried to make her happy.

 

Falling out of love was surprisingly easy, sure, but forgetting how much Hyunjin meant to her once upon a time… that is impossible. 

 

So yeah, Heejin still cares. 

 

With a sigh, Heejin’s arms start to unfold.

 

Her eyes soften as she watches Hyunjin fidgeting with her hoodie string, a nervous tic she always does when she doesn’t know what to say. It’s strangely endearing, the small gesture reminding Heejin that some things never really change.

 

“Of course I still care about you,” Heejin asserts, “It’s just that… I didn’t expect you to come here. That’s all.”

 

Hyunjin’s glare melts at her words, to the point that she looks almost hopeful. It hardens again when she says “you didn’t answer my call,” her voice accusatory and biting.

 

“What are you doing here?” Heejin repeats, her voice a little softer.

 

“I left something here,” Hyunjin says. 

 

Her words confuse Heejin. She's absolutely certain she gave Hyunjin all of her things in a box - remembers taking Hyunjin’s things ever so carefully out of her life. She remembers having to push every memory and lingering feeling down to stop herself from crying, remembers the regret she could swear she could feel in her fingertips as she finally taped the box shut.

 

“I left something here and I want it back,” Hyunjin presses.

 

She walks forward, slightly stumbling, and Heejin lets her come in. Heejin tries not to think about how right it looks when Hyunjin shrugs off her jacket and puts it on the coat rack,  or how Hyunjin slipping off her shoes makes her heart twinge. It all feels too familiar. Like its exactly what she's been missing.

 

“I’m... pretty sure I gave you everything,” comes Heejin's confused voice.

 

“No,” Hyunjin says, shaking her head at Heejin’s words. “I want you.” She stumbles into their once-shared apartment. “And I’m not leaving unless you're coming with me.”

"Hyunjin."

Heejin can’t find it in herself to kick Hyunjin out. After all, this was Hyunjin’s home too. And having Hyunjin sit there on the couch looks too right, as if things had gone back to usual. She sighs, making her way over, and sits down next to her, pulling the blanket over both of them.

 

It feels warm to be next to Hyunjin again. And good. Better than Heejin was prepared for. Heejin bursts into tears as she feels her tiredness seep out of her better than any sleep could’ve done.

 

In the corner of her eyes, she can see how Hyunjin stares at her for a few seconds, like she’s studying every bit of her, taking her in. There’s a sad familiarity to her gaze, something which was once so comfortable and easy now tinged with uncertainty. Hyunjin’s arms jerk up - as if she wants to wrap her arms around Heejin and comfort her - but they fall to her sides.

 

“I-” Hyunjin starts to say, grimacing at the sound of her voice. “What’s wrong?”

 

“I don’t know,” Heejin lies, voice hoarse. “I guess I miss you? I miss this.” She forces her tears to stop, knowing that they don’t solve anything. “I think I just need a hug.”

 

“I’ve been told I give pretty good hugs,” Hyunjin tells her matter-of-factly. 

 

The corners of her lips curl into a smile as Heejin lets out a chuckle, both of them all too aware that it was Heejin who had said it in the first place. She outstretches her arms.

 

“Yeah?” Heejin questioned jokingly. “Let’s try it out then.” Hyunjin’s arms are just as much of a safe haven as they’ve always been, fitting perfectly around her waist and providing just the right amount of warmth.  “Mm. Whoever told you that you give good hugs must be a genius.”

 

“Eh, she’s alright.”

 

Hyunjin’s hand goes up, falters in uncertainty, and starts to caress at the top of Heejin’s head, running through Heejin’s hair. Both of them let out a breath that they didn’t even know they were holding. Heejin wonders how she can be so full of nerves yet so calm all at once, before accepting that it’s just one of the many weird things Hyunjin does to her.

 

“Listen. I’m not gonna say that we’re fine and that everything’s okay, because it isn’t... and we aren’t. And as much as I want to say that one day we will be, I don’t know that for sure," Hyunjin says, mumbling the words into Heejin's hair. “What I will say - with absolute honesty - is that I really want to stay. And if I can do anything to make you want that too, I’ll try.”

 

“I _do_ want that.” Heejin pulls away slightly to look Hyunjin straight in the eyes. “I never stopped wanting that.”

 

Hyunjin doesn't seem to believe it, her mouth still frowning and her shoulders still tense. Heejin doesn't blame her. After all, she was the one who broke up with Hyunjin, who coldly returned all her belongings no less than two weeks later, who had ignored all of Hyunjin's calls. It makes sense to not believe her. 

 

But Heejin can't stand the fact that maybe Hyunjin feels that she isn't worth wanting, when that couldn't be farther from the truth. And honestly, it aches to think about how, even now, Hyunjin doesn't know how much Heejin wants her. For a moment, the girl in front of Heejin both looks and feels too much like the girl she fell in love with. 

 

Hyunjin seems unsure of herself, but still, she came to Heejin first, willing to do anything to make her want Hyunjin back. Paradoxically unconfident and unwavering. And just as she did when Hyunjin confessed to her too many years ago, Heejin leaned in.

 

It would be an exaggeration to say that electricity coursed through her veins, but Heejin can admit that as soon as their lips touched, she felt comfortable. Safe. It feels inexplicably right to have Hyunjin so close to her.

 

After pulling away from the hug, Heejin’s head situates itself on Hyunjin's shoulder. The blanket’s on the floor, long since forgotten, as the only warmth the two of them need is each other. 

 

“You know what I learned, Hyun?” Hyunjin looks down at her, curious, so Heejin continues. “Love’s really disappointing.”

 

Hyunjin laughs, a tinge of bitterness in it. “Sorry for being so disappointing.”

 

“No, not you," Heejin immediately backtracks. "You’re wonderful. I wouldn’t want to be disappointed with anyone but you.”

 

"Then what do you mean?"

 

“It’s just that-- there are dramas all the time talking about undying love and perfect romances. I think we had that once,” Heejin says, stroking her thumb over Hyunjin's knuckles as she speaks. “And if I can’t stay in love with someone as wonderful as you, I don’t have faith in love at all.” 

 

Watching Hyunjin fast asleep doesn’t fill Heejin with warmth like it used to, doesn’t make her heart swell with affection or something she can call love. But it does make her breathe a little easier - as if her lungs had forgotten how to fill by themselves, having grown dependent on Hyunjin’s presence to function. 

 

Hyunjin shifts a little and Heejin can feel her heart twinge a little in response. And it’s not enough to call it love, but it is enough for now. 

 

At least, it's enough for Heejin to finally let herself fall asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> cc/twt: @propertyofny
> 
> come talk to me about 2jin!


End file.
